Jordan
by Lightjetlady
Summary: AU: Jordan is almost killed when a driver high on drugs blows an intersection and crashes into the side of her car. Jordan and toddler!Sam are rescued by some unlikely characters, but Jordan is very badly hurt. Through a chain of events triggered by Flynn's frequent absences during Jordan's recovery at home, Jordan eventually discovers and gets onto the Grid, and has adventures.
1. Crash and Burn

**Warning: This chapter contains the horrific car crash that ****_should _****have killed Jordan. This is gory, but I've tried to make it not ****_too_**** gratuitous. There are elements have been taken out of my own personal experiences with car crashes, and also elements out of my nightmares. There is a point in a crash when you are no longer the driver, and ****_you are just along for the ride_****. And that point can be crossed with blinding speed. …Enjoy? It gets better in the next chapter, I promise!**

**Disclaimer: While this fic will not contain explicit sex scenes, it will contain graphic displays of violence, headgames, triggers for claustrophobia, and some nightmarish scenes. Jordan narrowly avoids death; 'nuff said? Also, I am writing the 'real world' side from a Christian worldview POV; some of you may find that offensive ****or in the case of the first chapter, ironically humorous****.**

_September 5, 1985, 6:57PM_

A few miles from Flynn's Arcade, in a speeding ambulance with sirens wailing a warning song, lay Jordan Canas on a stretcher, fighting for her life.

As Jordan wandered in and out of consciousness, she became aware of was the sound of labored breathing, muffled sirens sounding off continually, and a child crying. Distantly, she was aware that the breathing was hers.

_Breathing. Still breathing, good. Fuzzy mud-dled thinking notstraight why...? Baby crying – Sam? Yeah that's my Sammy! Good, Sam crying good. 'M Warm. Comfy. Sooo Slleeeppyy… Sleepy is wrong. Why is that wrong? Hurt. Brightness, why is that so bright? Hurts…_

Jordan groaned and her eyelids briefly fluttered open.

Jordan's last sight she would see in the ambulance, before surrendering to the black hole of sleep that had pulled on her so hard for the last grueling 45 minutes, was the blessed image of a whole, moving, bandaged Sam, crying, _squalling_ in the arms of a black paramedic, and that of another paramedic, his face whited out by the bright lights in the ambulance, telling her, urging her, to stay awake.

_I don't think I care_, Jordan dreamily thought as she closed her eyes, vaguely aware of the bumps the ambulance experienced as they sped down the street. _Sam is okay._

As clawing blackness fought to pull her under, she became vaguely aware of the long shrieking beep of a heart monitor warning of flatline. The paramedic nearest her swore and bumped her stretcher.

Just then, a voice spoke as if from the inside of Jordan:

_Fight, Jordan. You aren't finished here. _

The voice was soundless; nevertheless it was so authoritative that it shook her to her core. It startled her.

Then Jordan's body shook with an artificial jolt. Jordan knew that the jolt should have been painful, but it wasn't. It was… as if she were not in her body. Everything seemed lighter.

The flatline sound continued.

_Fight, Jordan, _the Voice reverberated again. _This isn't your time._

Another jolt. The flatline warning continued.

_Who are you? _Jordan tried to ask. Her lips didn't seem to want to move. It was like they were… disconnected.

_The King of kings and The Lord of lords, _the Voice replied with force. _Now be strong, and FIGHT! _

Jordan almost didn't want to. The thought of returning to that damaged, confining body was a bit much. But then, in a split second, Jordan knew, _just knew,_ why she wanted to fight, and she made her decision.

Jordan forced herself into as much consciousness as she could muster, and screamed inside with everything she had:

_SAM!_

and Jordan had the sensation of rushing back into her body.

A third jolt, this time _excruciatingly_ painful. Jordan groaned from the pain, and noticed that it was still hard to think, but different, somehow. She felt a little trapped in her body, but there was a small sense of victory. Jordan didn't think about it; she was exhausted.

The long electronic beep had ceased, replaced by regularly spaced tones. Jordan somehow overheard, over Sam's wailing, one of the paramedics saying "Damn, that was close," and while the other quietly replied, "She's not out of the woods yet." Then, to her, "Keep fighting, Ms. Canas."

Jordan, now set on fighting to live, was unaware of the exact moment when everything finally went fitfully dark.

_Earlier…_

It was supposed to be a shortcut. Jordan wanted to shave fifteen minutes off the drive home, and the only way to do that during the afternoon rush hour was to cut a path through a declining neighborhood, a few miles from Kevin's arcade. A ghetto. It was Kevin's birthday; Jordan wanted to get home from work early to surprise him. Jordan snorted a laugh at how like a mother hen Alan Bradley had been about her driving through this less-than-ideal neighborhood – it had taken a sharp turn for the worse shortly after a local factory had closed its doors – it wasn't like she was _his_ wife. Jordan frowned at that last thought – the relationship between Alan and Lora had been strained lately. Kevin, as usual, was oblivious.

Jordan's thoughts were diverted when she pulled into the daycare parking lot. Sam was all smiles when Jordan picked him up, especially when he found out that they were going to celebrate Daddy's birthday. Little Sam, all of 2-1/2 years old, had figured out that birthdays of any kind meant ICE CREAM. As Jordan prepared to pull back out of the parking lot, she spared a glance at her son buckled into the child seat in the back and smiled. She never wanted to forget that image of Sam, innocent and reflecting sunshine in his blue eyes.

Jordan had a sense of foreboding as she pulled into the street, headed for the shortcut, but she pushed past it. _The neighborhood isn't that bad, Alan, _Jordan said to herself, not noticing how the sunlight was fading in the late afternoon.

She was driving in the heart of that neighborhood when it happened; Jordan never saw what hit her. A driver high on drugs blew past a red stoplight at full speed and slammed into the driver's side of Jordan's tiny import sedan, forcing the little car up against the nearest light pole at the other end of the intersection.

From that very moment, Jordan's world was turned upside down.

"Flynn, you really ought to consider - "

The beeper went off in Kevin's pocket. Were he in any other place, he would have gone to the nearest telephone to call the number on the pager. But he what he was carrying wasn't a 'pager', per se. And there were no telephones where he was at –

"Jordan?" Kevin looked confused. One of Kevin's companions sighed, and the other one, who had been speaking to Kevin, folded his arms in disgust.

"Sorry guys, gotta go!" And with a flick of his wrist, Kevin was speeding off towards the Portal.

_Fire. Pain. _Searing _pain. Flames. Smoke. Can't see can't breathe – _

That Jordan awoke at all from the concussion caused by a collision with a full-sized 1980s Ford sedan could be called a miracle in itself.

What Jordan awoke to was a world of pain, trapped in the car that was now twisted and broken around her. Sam was screaming. _Screaming._

_Sammy – my SAMMY!_

Jordan fought panic as she _forced_ herself awake, knowing that the danger was far from over. Had she been alone, she might have given in to panic; however, someone was depending on her –

"HELP!" Jordan cried through the broken glass, or rather, tried to. For her efforts, she inhaled a lungful of smoke coming back from the engine. She coughed instead, and tried again, with the same results.

_Someone help me! Help my baby! _Jordan tried to say, and felt the panic rise in her chest when she could only cough.

PANIC IS NOT AN OPTION, Jordan told herself over the flames. THINK!

…thinking was swiftly becoming harder to do, between the nasty headache and the smoke that was trying to choke her to death.

Little Sam was no longer screaming; he was coughing between cries. His cry of "Mommy!" was too much for Jordan –

Jordan summoned what strength she had and tried to move to reach Sam; that only served to make clear how trapped she was, and pain shot through her body with renewed intensity. Everything was painful except… her legs. She couldn't feel her legs. With quickly growing alarm, Jordan tried to move them.

Nothing.

Jordan tried to cry in despair and terror but was stopped by that _damned smoke!_

_God – If you're really out there – HELP! Please help me! _ Jordan screamed silently, fighting waves of pain and nausea.

TURN OFF THE CAR, Jordan heard.

Jordan didn't hear a voice but she knew that thought didn't come from her –

TURN OFF THE CAR NOW, Jordan heard again, a rock solid awareness rather than an audible sound.

Jordan didn't waste any more time, and fought to quickly bring her arm to the steering column. Her hand fumbled through the blinding smoke, and she felt her way to the key. Her fingers registered a small pain as she forced the key to turn off. Almost immediately, the level of smoke dropped, as the noise of the running engine, which Jordan hadn't noticed until then, clattered to a stop.

All was not well, however. The car was still intolerably hot, and as the smoke cleared through broken glass, Jordan could see that the engine was on fire. In addition, Jordan noticed that her left arm felt strangely warm and sticky – and Jordan felt nauseous and lightheaded and sleepy all at the same time. But still –

_Sam – where's my Sammy?!_

Before Jordan could speak, little Sam, still in his car seat in the back, let out a long wail. Jordan never thought she'd be so happy to hear such a _terrified_ cry.

"It's OK, Sam, everything's going to be alright, honey," Jordan said over her shoulder, even as she knew things weren't alright, and had to work to make the words come out of her mouth correctly.

Jordan tried to move again; she was still stuck, and now that most of the smoke had cleared, she had a better view of how bad the situation was – which was horrifying. Blood was everywhere – her _own_ blood – her legs were trapped in the footwell, her hips looked crushed, she still had no feeling in her legs, and her left arm, although she could move it, was trapped. Only her right arm seemed free; she tried to use it to reach back for Sam, only to have searing pain in her back as the reward. She cried out in spite of herself. Her only comfort and, at the same time, goad, was that Sam kept crying out "Mommy!"

Jordan had never felt this helpless.

_If that really was You, God, please help! Save my baby if you don't save me! _

Despair was an open pit, threatening to swallow Jordan whole.

Again, an awareness came to her – but this time, her life flashed before her, and she saw all the wrong things she had said and done in her life: the 'innocent' gossip she had spread, her troubled relationship with her mother, her continued frustration with her frequently absent husband, her desire to see her ex-boss burn in hell; her childhood friend that she had abandoned in the name of being popular at school; it all came back with a vengeance –

It had the effect of making Jordan all the more desperate.

_God, forgive me! I'm so sorry! Please help! I know I don't deserve it! Help my Sammy!_

Jordan felt the tears flow down her face, uncertain that her prayer had been heard.

The car crash was so close to the 'garage' that it sounded like it came from the inside of the place.

One of the mechanics, Cal, swore a blue streak as the vibration in the floor knocked a wrench off his toolbox and onto his knee – not too painful in itself but it startled him into lifting his head into the oilpan of the car he working on from beneath –

"What the &^%$ was that?!" Cal exclaimed as he saw his boss, Al, running towards the entrance.

"Don't know. Put the tools away. Lock the place down," said Al as he reached the front.

"But we just got started - " Cal protested.

"Police could be here any minute. Just do it!" Al barked. At the mention of the police, Cal and the other two 'mechanics' with him quickly and quietly began to clean up the place while Al went outside to investigate the spectacle in front of the garage.

One of the mechanics noticed Al opening the front door and leaving –

"What the $%^$ is Al doing?!" he exclaimed to Cal in a whisper. "He'll be seen!"

"He's covering your ass, that's what! Keep moving!" ordered Cal.

The sight that greeted Al outside the 'shop' was straight out of a news video: a compact sedan pinned against a light pole by a full sized one. The compact sedan's engine was on fire, whereas the full sized sedan, while not on fire, seemed to be leaking radiator fluid. As Al was trying to figure out if he should do something, the full sized sedan tried to back up. Al watched, incredulous, as the sedan successfully backed up, dragging the smaller car with it a short distance before breaking free. Then the larger vehicle, with the front end damaged, slowly limped away, making scraping noises and leaking coolant as it went.

Al snorted. _He's not going to get too far. _

Al turned his attention back to the other car. He didn't want to get involved, but…

Then he heard the child screaming. Now he had a real dilemma – save a child or risk getting caught -

It was when he heard a woman crying his name, a nickname he hadn't heard in years, that he took action.

Al ran back into the shop.

Cal looked up from the tools he was packing; the rest of the team had made quick work of cleaning up valuables they didn't want to abandon, and were halfway done when Al ran back in.

"What's going on?" Cal asked.

"There's a car crash outside. It's bad. Hit and run," Al said while running around, frantically looking for something.

"What are you looking for?" Cal asked.

"Fire extinguisher," Al replied, checking the walls. Finding no extinguisher, he started rummaging through his tools.

"Since when are you a do-gooder?" Cal asked, as Al found a crowbar. Al frowned at him. "Al, we've got to get OUT of here, not mess around with no car crash!"

Al looked up from his tools which he had picked out.

"There's a mother and a baby in that car, and they are getting burned to death as we speak," Al said. "Now you can help me, or you can leave those people to die."

Al looked at the other two mechanics, which had stopped packing and were looking at him.

"That goes for you guys too," Al said.

When no one made a move, Al sighed, and quickly picked up his tools.

"Suit yourselves," Al muttered, and made his way out the door.

A moment after looking at the closed door, Cal sighed.

"Dammit Al, you're gonna get me killed," Cal said softly, getting up.

Cal looked back at the two mechanics, who returned his look with a blank stare.

"I'm helping. Dice? Fox? What about you two?" Cal asked.

"I want nothin' to do with it," the one called Dice replied, and quietly made his way toward the back door.

"Fox?"

"I guess I'll help," Fox replied.

"Good," Cal said. "I'll grab some tools, you get that moving blanket in the corner."

The two of them quickly got what they needed and made their way out the front door.

The sight that greeted Cal when he walked out the door made him pause. The crumpled little car was in the middle of the street, with pieces of vehicle strewn about it. Al had busted out what was left of the windshield, and was working on prying the driver's door open. The bent hood had flames licking out from under it, and a child could be heard screaming from inside the car.

Cal and Fox ran to the car.

"Fox, get the kid out," Cal ordered as he ran towards Al, grabbing the blanket from Fox and giving him a crowbar.

Fox made short work of the rear window, which had been the only thing that seemed to be intact on the car. A short while later, he had a screaming toddler in his arms. Fox saw something else in there, though, so he grabbed at it before he came back out of the crushed vehicle. After he got it, he almost dropped it and the toddler in the middle of getting out.

Meanwhile, Cal took Fox's moving blanket and forcefully stuffed it under the hood as best as he could over the engine; it seemed to be just enough to put out the fire.

Then Cal joined Al in fighting with bent and twisted metal. The door didn't want to come open, bent as it was; then Al noticed the exposed hinge.

"Cal, the door hinge," Al pointed out.

Cal looked at it, nodded, and ran back into the shop. Al went around the car, looking to see if there was another way to get the woman out, when he looked over at Fox, who, in addition to having a toddler clinging to his leg, had something in his hands.

Fox saw Al looking at him.

"I think this lady is rich," Fox said. "She's got a car phone."

"A what?" Al asked.

"A car phone, you know, a telephone, but like a walkie talkie," Fox explained, holding out the brick-sized telephone. "They're real expensive. Only rich folk have them."

Judging from the look Fox gave the phone, Al knew Fox wanted to fence it –

"Can you call for help on it?" Al asked.

Al's question seemed to shake Fox out of his thoughts.

"Uh, I think so, yeah," Fox said, dialing on the keypad.

Just then, Cal ran back out of the building with some more tools, one of which was a long cheater bar. As Al glanced at Cal, he noticed the sunlight – it was getting close to sunset. It would get hard to see what they were doing in just a little while.

Al went to work with Cal, and the two of them fought with the hinge, and much swearing and prying and wrenching later, the hinge gave. With a screech of metal, Al and Cal peeled back the door, only to have the woman cry out – her arm was stuck. Fortunately, the two noticed in time and were able to free her arm. Once they got the door off, they saw it – the blood. Al was immediately queasy but held it; Cal turned an unhealthy grey.

"Let's get the seat belt off her," Al said. Cal nodded. When the buckle didn't want to come undone, Cal whipped a knife out of his pocket and cut through the blood stained webbing.

Just when Al was wondering how they were going to lift the barely conscious woman out of the car, they heard sirens. An ambulance.

Al looked back at the woman, and said to her, "You're gonna be okay, honey, the ambulance is here."

"My baby," Jordan whispered. "My Sammy."

"Your Sammy is fine," Al said, looking back to the toddler and back. "What's your name, honey?"

"Jordan…Canas." Jordan breathed.

Just then, the ambulance arrived.

Al looked back at Fox, who still had the car phone in his hands.

"Thanks, Fox," Al said.

"But I didn't – " Fox began to protest, but was cut off by the paramedics, who immediately started questioning the three of them.

Cal was able to pull a purse out of the car, which he handed to the paramedics. As soon as the paramedics were able to get Jordan out of the car and onto a stretcher, the paramedics grabbed Sam and left at top speed for the nearest hospital.

The three mechanics stood near the smoldering wreckage for a minute, watching the ambulance disappear.

In the distance, another set of sirens could be heard.

"Cops," Fox said, and they all turned to run.

After Al reached the safety of a nearby alley, he turned back for just a moment, to look at the place where the ambulance went.

"Keep fighting, Ms. Canas," Al said softly, and he quietly disappeared with the other two.


	2. Dreams and Nightmares

It seemed to Jordan like her mind was in a fog.

Asleep or awake – she couldn't quite tell the difference. She would awaken long enough to overhear conversations, but she couldn't focus long enough for it make sense to her; it all faded in and out–

" – Emergency surgery – internal bleeding – "

The flashing of cold fluorescent hospital lights rushing overhead.

" – Mama! – " _Sam!_

" – L5 vertebrae compound fracture – left ulna fracture – vertebral disc rupture – "

" –Stay with us Jordan, honey – we love you! – " _Mom?_

The heart monitor beeping in the background like a metronome.

"– Type C pelvic fracture – sacroiliac joint – possible nerve damage and paralysis - "

" – What do you mean you can't _fix it_?! – " _Kevin._

" – Mr. Flynn, _please _– "

" – Experimental surgery, do you consent? – "

" – What's one _more_ matter?! – "

" – _Kevin, calm down_ –" _Male voice. Whosit? Doesn' matter sleep…_

For a long while, nothing.

Then, dreams.

They started slow at first; almost peaceful.

Little Sam as a newborn, safely resting in her arms.

Sam's first birthday party, getting chocolate cake all over his face.

Kevin with little Sam under his arm, making Sam squeal with delight as he spun around, yelling 'Airplane!' while Jordan scolded him.

Then, without warning, fire. It was always fire, everywhere.

Sam screaming with an ungodly howl. Blood everywhere. Twisted metal in her face. Difficulty breathing. Severe nausea; but Jordan couldn't throw up.

_God help me! _ Jordan would try to yell, and it would be enough to come out of the nightmare. But not enough to fully wake up.

Other times, the dreams got downright strange. Kevin's recent movie kept getting in her dreams. Neon-lit computer programs that were people. Emerald cities lit from within in blues and reds and greens and golds. A program that looked like Alan, and another that looked like Lora. Motorcycles and ribbons of light. Floating and shifting blocks that talked. And, finally, a program that looked like Kevin.

She focused on that one. Kevin's doppelganger was different than Kevin, somehow. Then it seemed like he was near her bed, leaning over her. He was too close, blocking the hospital light behind him, even while yellow lines seemed to glow off of him. His expression, a smile that would have been charming on Kevin, made Jordan uncomfortable. It was as if he wanted something, wanted _her_. Then Jordan finally noticed the glowing yellow bars on the program's left shoulder. The alternating yellow and black reminded Jordan of a certain insect, and to Jordan's half-awake and half-scared mind, it was instantly and insanely funny. Jordan started snickering -

"Bumble-booo Calluuuuuuu…." said Jordan out loud, her snickering turning into laughing.

At the foot of the hospital bed, someone made noises of stirring.

Jordan continued laughing, until she realized that she had awakened. _Truly_ awakened; her mind no longer seemed to be in a fog.

The person who had gotten up at the foot of the bed approached.

"How are ya, honey?" a female voice asked.

_Mom._

"Hey, Mom," Jordan replied.

Just a short while ago, Jordan would have been irritated to see her mother. But now –

"How are you feeling?" Jordan's Mom asked.

Jordan had to do a quick mental inventory, and remembered enough to check her legs –

"I can't feel my legs," Jordan said quietly, noticing for the first time the maze of tubing and monitors that surrounded her.

Jordan's Mom sighed.

"Yeah, the doctors said that might be the case," Jordan's Mom said.

Jordan looked at her Mom for a long moment, and her Mom took her hand.

Her Mom's eyes grew teary.

"You really scared us, honey," Jordan's Mom said, "I thought we might lose you."

_You almost did, _Jordan thought.

"Where's Sammy?" Jordan asked suddenly.

"Sam is with his –" Jordan's Mom began.

"MOMMY!" a little voice cried, his short little footfalls audible on the hard hospital floor.

"Sammy," Jordan said softly, and the man who was walking behind little Sam lifted Sam's body onto Jordan's bed.

Jordan promptly wrapped her right arm around her son, being careful not to get the IV tube in her arm tangled in the process; Jordan's left arm was in a cast.

"Sammy, Sammy, Sammy…" Jordan crooned as she held her son tight. She didn't want to let go. Not for a long time.

"Hey," a man's voice called, "do you have any of that lovin' left for me?"

Jordan smiled as she turned to look at her husband. And she nearly did a double take. Kevin was standing in the exact same place that his digital double had stood in her dream; CLU, was it? Kevin still smiled gently, though, and his smile went all the way to his _eyes_.

"Hey, babe," Jordan said, smiling.

Kevin reached over the bed and his son and kissed his wife on the forehead.

"Hey," Kevin replied.

After a long, tender moment together, in which Kevin didn't seem to want to leave, a man cleared his throat behind Kevin. The doctor. And another, older man: Jordan's father.

"Sorry, man," Kevin said, stepping aside so the doctor could talk directly to Jordan.

"No, no, it's quite alright," the doctor said, smiling. "It's good to finally see you awake, Mrs. Canas."

Jordan let go of Sam and started to push him off.

"Sammy, honey, I want you to go with Gramma and Grandpa Canas, okay?" Jordan said.

"But I don't wanna go!" Sam said.

"Sam honey, Mommy's got to talk to the doctor, okay?" Jordan then lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "And if you ask Gramma nicely I bet she will get you some ice cream…"

"Ice Cream!" Sam exclaimed, and Grandma Canas gave her _the look._ But she and Grandpa Canas dutifully took both of Sam's little hands as they exited the room.

After the trio left, the doctor extended his hand to Jordan, who shook it.

"I'm Doctor Matthias Luke, your surgeon," the doctor said. "I'm glad I could see you awake before my shift ended. You're quite the remarkable woman."

"That she is," Kevin chimed in.

Dr. Luke smiled at Kevin before continuing.

"Well, do you think you are up for the report, Mrs. Canas?" Dr. Luke asked.

Jordan nodded.

Dr. Luke took the large folders from underneath his arm and proceeded to take out several X-rays that had been taken of Jordan. He set them up on the illuminator next to the hospital bed, and turned on the switch. Jordan's breath caught at the sight.

Dr. Luke looked directly at Jordan when he spoke.

"This is how you looked when you arrived at Bethesda Memorial." Dr. Luke said. "You had multiple fractures in your pelvis, and fractures in your sacrum, which is here (Dr. Luke pointed to the bone at the back of the pelvis), and a hairline fracture in your L5 vertebrae, which is the lowest vertebrae in your back. You also had a broken ulna and radius in your left arm."

"But that only counts the broken bones," Dr. Luke continued. "You had massive internal bleeding in your pelvic organs, in addition to your left arm which was also bleeding, and by the time you arrived here, you were very close to death. Our first order of business was to stop the bleeding, and that meant multiple surgeries. The first of the surgeries took six hours."

Dr. Luke paused, and took a breath.

"I won't lie to you Mrs. Canas," Dr. Luke said. "I've had patients who were injured far less than you, die on the operating table. Your heartbeat flatlined twice in that first operation. But you stayed with us."

"The next set of surgeries-" Dr. Luke set up another set of X-rays – "involved rebuilding your pelvis. Not too long ago this kind of surgery would have been impossible. But there are now metal rods holding your pelvis together."

"Thank you, Dr. Luke," Jordan said.

"Well, don't thank me too much," Dr. Luke said quietly, and he exchanged glances with Kevin.

"During the second set of surgeries there were strong indications that your spinal cord had been damaged at the L5 vertebrae," Dr. Luke said.

When the doctor didn't immediately continue, Jordan pressed on.

"What does that mean, doctor?" Jordan asked.

"That means that there is a good possibility that you won't be able to use your legs again," Dr. Luke said.

Jordan took the news soberly; it wasn't a surprise, but to hear the doctor say it was worse, somehow. Jordan looked at her legs; they were in some kind of a traction device, and there were wires and cables everywhere.

"There's more," Dr. Luke said. "Injury to the spinal cord in that location also means that muscle control in the pelvic floor is likely lost. This means, among other things, incontinence, loss of sexual function…"

Jordan shut her eyes. The doctor was still speaking but Jordan was tuning out -

_This can't be happening. This can't be happening…_

Kevin shook her out of her reverie.

"Is there anything we can do?" Kevin asked.

"Short of a miracle?" Dr. Luke asked. "No. Once the spinal cord is severed or the nerves die from blood loss, current medical science has no answer; the damage is permanent. No one has yet found a way to re-grow the nerve cells. I'm sorry."

Dr. Luke continued after another moment. "If you are up to it, Mrs. Canas, I would like to do a few tests."

"Sometimes, after the swelling in the spinal column goes down, some function returns," Dr. Luke explained.

Jordan and Kevin immediately consented; but Jordan couldn't feel the doctor touching her feet, and each reflex test the doctor did had no response.

"I'm sorry," Dr. Luke was saying.

Jordan felt numb on the inside, but she felt herself saying, "You did what you could, doctor. Thank you."

Kevin and Jordan simply looked at each other. Jordan noticed for the first time how haggard Kevin looked; like he hadn't slept in days.

"I'll give you two some time to talk this over," Dr. Luke said, and Kevin and Jordan absently nodded.

After Dr. Luke left and shut the door, Kevin found a chair and sat next to Jordan's bed. He tightly grasped her hand; as if it was the only safe thing for him to embrace.

"Hey," Jordan said.

Kevin looked up from her hand, tears in his eyes.

"We'll make it through this, okay?" Jordan said, trying to reassure herself as much as Kevin. Jordan could have sworn that Kevin had a distant look in his eyes; the kind that he had when he was about to work on one of his big projects. Only this look was far more somber than the kind Jordan was used to seeing in her fun-loving husband.

"Okay." Kevin said finally. "I love you, Jordan Canas."

"I love you too, Kevin Flynn," Jordan said, and playfully pulled her husband toward herself.

"Same team?" Jordan asked.

"Hmm? Always, always." Kevin said, and leaned down to give his wife a kiss.


End file.
